


A Walk In The Woods

by Mourningbirds



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, F/M, Gratuitous use of Good Girl, Intimacy, Javi wears plaid shirts and chops down trees for some reason, Masturbation, One Shot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, but it is brief, but it is not played up as a kink, soft Javi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26212594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mourningbirds/pseuds/Mourningbirds
Summary: You are walking in the woods when you see a handsome man chopping down a tree.After a few more strikes, he dropped the ax, walked away from the tree, and watched it as it fell. Then he picked up a leather jacket from the ground and walked over to you.He wasn’tbuilt. You could tell he’d never needed to look in a gym for self-validation. You saw it in the way he carried himself. With a feline poise that carefully stalked the line between confidence and vanity and only occasionally swaggered into the latter.He seemed to be crossing that line now, and you went hot with anticipation at the realization that he wanted to show off for you.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	A Walk In The Woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yespolkadot_kitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/gifts).



> Thank you to ilookedback for being an amazing beta reader. This fic is dedicated to yespolkadot_kitty who wanted to meet Javi in the woods and have him rail her up against a tree.

You heard him before you saw him. The sound of an ax striking a tree. Not an uncommon noise in those woods. But every now and then there was a deep, soft grunt that gave you the oddest sensation of déjà vu. Then you saw him and, _Oh_. 

You’d seen him around town. Last week in the hardware store you’d watched him pick up an enormous sack of gravel and toss it onto his shoulder like it was cotton candy. The sight of it had ignited some dormant area of your hind brain and you’d gone straight home and masturbated over the memory of it. Imagined him coming to you with his hard cock tenting his pants, lifting you onto his shoulder with that same understated strength, then carefully laying you out on his bed and fucking you, lovingly, and ruthlessly hard.

He hadn’t said much to the cashier but he’d spoken in that quiet way of someone who’s used to being obeyed. You heard the same thing in those grunts as his ax hit the tree.

When you got close enough for him to notice you, he pointed to the tree, then held up his hand in a silent instruction, _Careful now - don’t come any closer - she’s about to fall_. So you leaned against a tree a safe distance away and watched as he sliced into the trunk to manage the fall to his liking.

He wore jeans, heavy boots, and a plaid shirt that was straining across his shoulders and around his biceps as he swung the ax. 

And he was tall. You’d noticed him in the grocery store one time, using his height to retrieve a case of beer from a high shelf for a harassed-looking woman who’d been wrangling three small children. 

After a few more strikes, he dropped the ax, walked away from the tree, and watched it as it fell. Then he picked up a leather jacket from the ground and walked over to you. 

He wasn’t _built_. You could tell he’d never needed to look in a gym for self-validation. You saw it in the way he carried himself. With a feline poise that carefully stalked the line between confidence and vanity and only occasionally swaggered into the latter. 

He seemed to be crossing that line now, and you went hot with anticipation at the realization that he wanted to show off for you. 

When he reached you he jerked up his chin and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jacket. He tapped one loose and offered it to you, but you shook your head so he lit it for himself and stood by your side for a minute, looking at the fallen tree, and smoking. 

You tried to think of something clever to say. Wondered if he was waiting for you to ask about his plans for the lumber he’d just felled. You sneaked a look at him. He seemed comfortable enough with the silence. Tilting his head up to exhale smoke into the air while he rolled the cigarette, thoughtfully, between his thumb and index finger.

He took a couple more drags. Then, with the cigarette bobbing between his lips, he mumbled a wordless noise that might have been, _Oh yeah_ , and reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a hip flask. He unscrewed the cap and offered you the flask. Whiskey. You could smell it as you turned the flask in your hand. It was dented in a few places, and inscribed with initials - _J.P_. 

You took a long pull. It was more than you’d usually take, but you needed something to bolster your courage. And maybe you wanted to impress him, too. You passed it back and he took a couple of slow sips. Then he put it back in his pocket and spoke. “I’ve seen you in town, haven’t I?”

“We shop at the same grocery store.”

He turned to you and exhaled smoke away from your face. “Yeah, I remember. And the hardware store. Right?” 

_He’d seen you looking_.

“Right.” 

You studied him then, and felt almost incredulous at how handsome he looked in the afterglow of his work. A smear of dirt on his brow and another on his sharp cheekbone. Damp hair curling around his face and at his nape. The lean, muscular column of his neck, flushed with heat. A sheen of sweat on the bare skin of his chest where he’d left the top of his shirt unbuttoned. 

He cleared his throat, and the sound jolted your eyes back to his face. “You know, if you wanted to see more of me you only had to ask, honey.” He paused and swiped his thumb over his lip. “Didn’t have to follow me all the way out into the woods.” A little mock-conspiratorial lilt to his voice here. Offering you a joke if you wanted it. 

You didn’t.

Neither did he. But he looked at you for a long moment anyway, as though waiting for the joke to land. 

His shirt was mostly hanging outside his jeans but it was still tucked at one side of his waist, exposing his hip, narrow and lean. It gave his upper body that V-shape you liked so much. You imagined it between your thighs, your legs wrapped around him, heels digging into his ass…

“Do you want to see more now?” His voice made you jump, even though he’d spoken quietly. You wondered if he was giving you license to feign deafness. If he was worried that he’d misread the look on your face. 

“Yeah.” You hoped you sounded cooler than you felt.

He dropped his cigarette and dragged it under his boot, taking an agonizingly long time to make sure it was fully extinguished. 

Finally he stepped closer. And when he was a few inches away, his body square to yours, he looked down at the space between you. “This enough? Do you want to see more?”

You took his hand lightly between your fingertips and he let you guide him closer. He was watching your face, as though on alert for a sign that you’d changed your mind. “This too much, honey?” he whispered.

“No. Come here,” you breathed.

He stepped fully into your space, crowding you against the tree. He put his hands on the trunk, either side of your body, and the sudden change in pace made your breath catch in your throat. He noticed it and smiled, like he’d got the measure of you. 

He jerked his head down at his arms where they were caging you in. “Does this feel good?” 

You shivered at the feeling of being covered by him, enclosed in the span of his arms.

“Yeah. S’good.” 

But there was still a space between your bodies and it felt intolerable and you reached for his hips, curled your fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and jerked him toward you. He huffed a little laugh at that and tilted his head to one side. “Alright, then.”

He slotted his leg between yours, using the sturdy weight of his hip to pin you against the tree. Then you felt his erection - solid and uncompromising against your hip, and it _knocked the breath out of you_ , the realization that he’d been desperate too, but holding back, waiting for your signal. 

After so much tension it was a relief - the feeling of his hard dick. Nothing ambiguous about that. You reached around and squeezed his ass through the worn-soft denim. You had to pull the hip flask out of his back pocket and throw it on the ground so you could get his warm body under your hands. Then you tilted your hips towards him, urging him closer, craving more of him between your legs.

He looked down at your hips. You looked too, and were faintly embarrassed to see yourself grinding against him while he held his body steady for you. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t have stopped for anything. You squeezed your eyes shut.

He put his hands around your hips, guiding you as you rocked against him. “You look so hot. I knew you would. Can you open your eyes, baby?”

You forced your eyes open and moaned softly at the sight of his face, his eyes gone glassy and heavy-lidded. Not so poised now.

“You’ve– you’ve thought about this?”

He pressed his forehead to yours and nodded.

“Tell me.”

His voice was low and husky. “I jerked off thinking about you last night.” 

“What did you th– think about?”

He ducked his head and nuzzled into the side of your neck, kissing it and letting you feel his tongue there. And you almost wanted to squirm away from him - from how he heightened all your senses, just with a kiss. The sound of his harsh breath close to your ear, the heat of his mouth, the scratch of his mustache on your soft skin. All of it making you quiver like the heroine in one of those bodice-ripper romance novels you used to tease your mom for reading. But you held firm and let him work along the edge of your jaw, nibbling it lightly until he reached your mouth.

And with his lips against yours he whispered, like another conspiracy, “I thought about making you come.” 

“ _Oh God_.”

“Want me to make you come now?”

“Yes. Yes, please.”

He pressed his chest firmly against your breasts and kissed you. His mouth and tongue felt huge and demanding. It was overwhelming - the sheer intensity of him. You couldn’t help going pliant beneath him and he must have felt it. He adjusted his stance, getting his hips fully between your thighs for his hard cock nudge against your crotch.

You cried out and he pressed his mouth to yours to muffle the sound. When you quieted he kissed you, slow and soft. “Shh, settle, now. Gotta be quiet, okay?” 

And you knew you couldn’t be quiet, but you nodded anyway, terrified that he might stop if you didn’t. 

“Good girl.” He kissed you again, dragging his teeth on your lower lip and rubbing his nose against yours. Then he fingered the top button of your shirt. “Okay if I open this?” He asked, his voice almost a whisper. “Can I see you?”

“Y– yeah, open it.” You needed him to see you. You wanted him to touch you there, to feel how soft you were for him. 

He quickly unbuttoned your shirt to your waist then hooked his fingers into the cups of your bra, trying to drag them down, but the fabric wouldn’t give.

“Just rip it,” you gasped. “Get it off me, I don’t care.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded knife and you let out a shocked noise at the sight of it, recognizing it even though the blade was tucked away.

He held up a placating hand. “Shit, sorry! I just– you want it off?” He jerked his head at your bra. 

And it took you a moment to understand that he intended to _cut it off you_. It wasn’t one of your favorites and even if it had been, you knew you’d have sacrificed it anyway. Under the circumstances it felt ludicrously fitting to be undressed in such a way, and who were you to deny what the fates seemed to demand of the moment? 

“Yes. Do it.” 

“Hold still, okay?” He unfolded the blade and gently pulled the band away from your chest. You were panting, your chest heaving in and out against his fist.

He placed his hand between your breasts and looked into your eyes. “Still. Can you do it?” 

You nodded and held your breath. When your chest stopped moving he slipped the knife between your body and the fabric, keeping the sharp side of the blade away from your skin. You bit your lip, almost vibrating with the tension of holding still, as you watched him work. His hands were steady and careful as he sliced through the fabric where the cups joined. 

Your breasts spilled out into the cold air and he fell on them with a low groan. He dropped the knife and groped you with his huge, rough hands, rubbing the scratch of his stubble back and forth over your sensitive nipples. He sucked one of them into the heat of his mouth and rolled his tongue over and over it. All the time moaning against it in a deep, heavy rumble that sent intense vibrations through your nipple and straight to your clit. 

He released it with a soft drag of his teeth and you both looked at it, wet, and growing harder in the cold air. He looked up at you and brushed his lips, teasingly, over your nipple while he gazed at you with hazy, glassy eyes. 

He looked absolutely wrecked with lust.

“Oh fuck, touch me, _please_.” You started scrabbling at the fastening of your jeans. 

He gently brushed your hands aside and took over. His hands were clumsy too, but steadier than yours. When he had your jeans unfastened he pulled them down to your ankles where they were tucked inside your boots. 

And then you stiffened. 

Lucidity cut through the haze of sex and you were suddenly hyper aware of the outside air against your legs, the rough bark of the trunk scratching your back, and the reality of what you were doing.

He sensed it right away. 

He straightened up and pressed himself against you, shielding you from exposure. His shirt was soft against your breasts and you could feel his chest beneath it, firm and warm, rising and falling, his heart beating fast. He put his hands either side of you on the trunk as he had earlier, but it felt different this time. As though he knew you felt vulnerable and was simply giving you more coverage. Nothing sexual in it.

“Are you okay? Do you want to stop?” His voice was so kind, so sincere. You could hardly bear it.

“I don’t know.”

His brows were drawn together, his face tense with concern. And it lulled you a little, how seriously he was treating this moment. He cupped your jaw in his hand and stroked his thumb over your cheek. His skin felt coarse and it made you wonder about his life. Was he out here every day, swinging an ax and hefting logs? You wouldn’t know. 

_You didn’t even know his name_. 

And he didn’t know yours, either. But here he was anyway, using his careful hands to soothe you and the bulk of his body to protect you. 

“I don’t want to stop,” you said. “Think I just need a minute. Can you see anyone?”

You drew in your elbows, making yourself small against him, and he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. And it struck you that he had waited for your answer before holding you - before doing anything that might make you feel restrained. Who the fuck _was_ this guy?

He looked around for a few moments. “No. Not right now.”

You tucked your face into the crook of his neck and he settled his chin on top of your head. That little act of reciprocation made you snuggle closer. Then he covered the back of your neck with his hand, and the warm, heavy weight of it there was so soothing and grounding that you allowed your eyes to close. 

His touch felt patient but still you wondered what he was thinking. Eventually you looked up at him, feeling embarrassed. “Sorry.”

He didn’t say anything, and for a second you thought you’d made a terrible mistake, that this would be one of those experiences that you would think back on with squirming regret.

But then he pressed the sweetest, slowest kiss to your forehead. It was so heavy with fondness that you felt overwhelmed by the weight of it. 

“Do you want to know my name?” he whispered.

“Not yet.” 

And then you shared a smile. Because it was an act of intimacy, him asking that question instead of simply offering the answer unprompted, and you both knew it. 

In that moment you felt inseparable from him. Bound together by the intensity of what you were about to do. And by the knowledge that you had been watching one another for so long, and thinking of this moment. Or something like it, anyway. 

You reached for the back of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss, and there was something different in it now. Like a conversation that had shifted gears after the sharing of a secret. 

As he slid his tongue against yours, you made a contented sound at getting the taste of him in your mouth again. 

You didn’t know it then, but for the rest of your life the smell of whisky and cigarettes would act like Proust’s madeleines, returning you to this moment and making your lips part in some Pavlovian response. When you craved it you would buy a bottle of cheap whiskey and a pack of cigarettes and let one burn while you sipped the whisky and lived inside the memory of him for a few self-indulgent but devastating minutes. 

While you kissed, you cupped your hands around the angle of his jaw, your fingertips touching the soft hair around his ears. You started unbuttoning his shirt and he helped you - pulling the tails of his shirt fully out of his jeans. 

The instant you drew his shirt open he plastered his naked chest against your breasts, groaning into your mouth at the contact. He knocked the wind out of you a little, misjudging his own strength as he desperately pulled you closer, like he could never get enough of your naked skin against his. 

You held each other like that for a while and then he touched his forehead to yours. And even though you were too close to focus, you stared into each other’s eyes. Both of you seeking out any way to increase this closeness like it was a drug to which you had become instantly and incurably addicted.

“Please,” you said, as you hitched your hips forward. 

“Yeah?”

And, at last, he reached inside your underwear, cupped you in his strong, clever hand, and pressed the broad pad of his middle finger on top of your swollen, aching clit.

You whined with relief and clutched at his shoulders like he was the only solid, real thing in a dream. He massaged your clit with expert skill, rocking his finger over it with perfect pressure and speed, sometimes dipping down into the heat of you to drag more slick up to it. 

“That f-feels so nice. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t, baby.”

He kissed you and you felt drunk on him and consumed by him. By the feel of his hand on your cunt and his tongue inside your mouth and the sound of his soft, reassuring voice.

After a while, he adjusted his hand, putting his thumb to work on your clit, and then he slowly pushed his thick middle finger deep inside and you ground slowly into his hand, utterly at his mercy.

“God, you’re so wet. So good. Such a good girl.” 

His voice was straining softly now, like he was overwhelmed by the feel of your swollen slick pussy rocking against him. His dark eyes flicking between his hand and your face, he added another finger and curled them and you let out a shocked gasp. The need to come was unbearable but your body was fighting against it. 

“It’s okay, just let go,” he soothed. “I want you to come on my hand.”

He massaged your clit and pumped his fingers faster into you, compelling you to bring all your attention to him.

So you ground your clit against his hand and looked into his eyes and he quickly released an orgasm from your body that made your knees give way and your head tip back and everything around you retracted until the only reality was him, and the only thought in your head was that you never wanted anyone but him to touch you ever again. 

When he felt your legs weaken, he wrapped his steady arm around your waist, holding you upright. And as you came down from your orgasm he kept working at your clit, rubbing hard over the top of it, helping you wring every last drop of pleasure from the aftershocks. 

As your body settled he gently pulled out his fingers and cupped your mound, covering you with a comforting, firm pressure. 

Your head was still tipped back and, with his big hand still covering you between your legs, he pressed gentle, reverent kisses to the vulnerable skin of your throat. 

You felt raw and exposed and softened by afterglow. But he handled you so tenderly - keeping you safe in this exposed place while you came back to yourself. You felt as though you could trust him with every part of yourself.

It all unravelled you, and overwhelmed tears leaked from the corners of your eyes and ran over your temples into your hair. You straightened up and gazed at him, bewildered and hazy. 

“I want you inside me.” 

He kissed the tracks of your tears, then your eyebrows, your forehead, and you closed your eyes, absorbing the sensation of his soft lips on your skin. 

“You want me to fuck you?” he said, between kisses. “You sure?”

“If– if you want to.”

“Jesus Christ, are you kidding me? I’m so hard for you right now. You’re so fuckin’ hot.”

He planted another soft kiss on your lips, then left you for a moment, returning with his leather jacket that he’d dropped on the ground when he first came over to you. 

“Lean forward, baby.” 

You leaned away from the tree, and then he put his jacket on you, _like he was your goddamn boyfriend_. 

When you leaned back the leather cushioned your back from the tree, and your addled, over-stimulated brain processed what he had just done.

You couldn’t speak. You looked at him but he wouldn’t meet your gaze. He seemed to look a little shy for the first time.

Your jeans were still gathered at your ankles, stuck there on top of your boots, and you felt a flash of dismay. You didn’t want to have to stop to take your boots off, nor did you want your feet on the forest floor. 

But you forgot about that soon enough when he got on his knees and pulled your underwear down. Edging them down slow, like he was unwrapping a present he’d waited all year for, and had dreamed of the reveal just as much as the gift itself. 

He pulled down one side and sucked a hard kiss to your bare hip, letting you feel his teeth. Then the same on the other side. Then he moved to the delicate skin of your inner thighs - sucking more kisses and giving you little bites and soothing licks. 

Finally, he dragged the fabric down to your mid-thigh and used his thumbs to part your folds. You threaded your fingers in his hair, cradling his head while he looked at you. There was a kind of quiet wonder on his face and it made you preen a little to know how much you pleased him. Your hands were around his ears and jaw, and you could feel the soft hair of his head and the rough scratch of his stubble against your palms. 

He let you feel the cold air on your hot, slick inner lips for a few moments, then he looked up at you and pressed a soft kiss to your clit that made you gasp, high and tight. 

He gave it a few licks, still looking into your eyes. Now he was only holding you open with his left hand and you noticed his right shoulder flexing. You craned your neck a little to see that he was palming his hard dick through his jeans as he tasted you. 

It was too much. Your knees buckled and you had to brace your hands on his shoulders to stay upright. He grabbed your hips, holding you steady, and abandoned your cunt with a reluctant noise, as though remembering he was meant to be fucking you. 

He got back on his feet and pulled your underwear down to your ankles. “Alright?” he checked, softly, and you nodded yes. Now you had his body within reach you touched him all over, stroking your soft hands across his throat and down to his ribcage. You kissed his collarbone and chest.

He unbuckled his belt, and you watched, breathless, as he opened his jeans and pulled out his cock. It was beautiful; long and thick and deliciously hard. A vein along the length of it that you imagined tracing with your tongue.

“Oh my God,” you said, before you could catch yourself.

He huffed out a soft laugh. Coming from any other man it might have been a turn-off but there was something so self-deprecating in his face that it just charmed the hell out of you. 

Jesus. _You were fucked_. You knew it.

And you laughed at yourself, too. But you quickly shut up when he reached down to play with your clit again. Your jaw went slack and you looked at him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Do you want another orgasm before I fuck you?” Like he was asking if you wanted sugar in your coffee. God, he was a cocky son of a bitch. 

You shook your head because his big fingers were moving over your clit in a way that made speech impossible and you couldn’t wait any longer. You needed to feel him inside you. 

He took his fingers out of you and wrapped his hand around his cock, covering himself with your slick. Then he started jerking himself, and stroking your breasts with his other hand.

It was unbelievably hot - seeing him driven to fuck his own fist by the sight and feel of your body. It made you want to touch yourself but he looked so beautiful and enticing that you couldn’t resist reaching for him instead. 

You cupped his balls and gave them a soft squeeze and that put a little hitch in his breath that you wanted to hear again. “Let me,” you said, wrapping your fingers around the base of his dick. You started to stroke him, your hand bumping against his until he let go of himself so you could take over.

He braced one of his hands on the tree and the other was cupping your breast. He watched you stroke him and he let loose a stream of praises, “Jesus– your hand– so soft. You look so fuckin’ good in my jacket. You’re so good– want you to come on my cock.”

“What are you waiting for?” you panted. “Get inside me.”

You let go of his cock and held onto his shoulders. He stepped over your jeans, so he was standing between your legs. You balanced your back against the tree trunk and shuffled your feet forward to give him more room. Then he lifted one of your thighs, as much as your position would allow, anyway, bent at the knee, and lined himself up. 

The tip of his bare cock pressed against you for a moment, and then he pushed into you.

He wasn’t tentative but he was careful. He eased in slowly, making gentle, shallow thrusts along your slick walls that made you ache for him to go deeper so you could drag your stiff clit against his body. You felt him shudder against you, perhaps with the effort of holding back. 

“It’s okay,” you breathed. Then you tapped him on the hip. “Feels good. Keep going.”

Seeming to be reassured by this, he reached under your other thigh and lifted you up so you were settled between his cock and the tree, with his big hands under your ass. You wrapped your arms around him and then he shoved his hips forward and fucked the rest of the way into you, ending with a hard thrust that hit you so deep that you cried out.

“Shhh,” he breathed, his lips on yours. 

Then you kissed, with open eyes, and your mind went quiet from how he was filling you so perfectly. His cock buried deep in your cunt, his tongue in your mouth, his eyes locked with yours and his heavy jacket on your body. Your whole world shrank down to him and you felt peaceful and sated. You wanted to tell him how good his cock felt inside you, but you couldn’t muster the means to speak. 

He pulled almost all the way out of you with a slow, tight drag and then pushed back in - slow again at first, with that same shocking, fast thrust at the end.

“Jesus, you’re tight. So nice and wet for me. You look– so pretty on my cock.” 

You felt yourself clench around him at the sound of his broken, ruined voice. You’d have done anything to please him. Anything to keep earning his praise.

He carried on fucking you like that, slow and hard, and in the end it became so intense that you couldn’t look at him anymore. You had to bury your face in the crook of his neck and bite down on his skin to muffle your moans. 

The feel of your teeth on his neck seemed to put a fire under him and he began pounding into you fast and hard, abandoning any effort to hold back. It made your head spin - how eagerly he was fucking you. 

His breath started coming harsh and loud and he let out loud, deep grunts against your neck, where he was nuzzling little biting kisses into your soft skin. 

Then he hitched you up and his cock touched you in a new place that took your breath away. One hand was groping the flesh of your ass and the other around your waist. The smell of his salty perspiration and faint cologne clung to his jacket. The weight of it, the softness at your back, and the scent of him all around you, working like more layers of his own bone-deep tenderness and care for you. 

Your legs were wrapped around him, ankles crossed. His firm body felt perfect between your thighs. Like it belonged only there. You pulled your ankles apart a little, and the resistance of your jeans - making it impossible for you to untangle yourself from him without his help - should have made you feel panicked and helpless. But it didn’t, and even in your hazy state you knew, with shocking clarity, that it was because he satisfied a need in you that had never been met before. The need for a man you trusted enough to make yourself vulnerable with.

It hit you hard and you became desperate to come on his cock. Driven, by some instinct you couldn’t deny, to give yourself over to him in the most intimate way you could. 

Your bodies were pressed close together but when he saw you start edging your hand down, he leaned back so you could get to your clit. You lifted your head from his neck. You wanted to look into his eyes as you stroked yourself. Wanted to block out everything except for his cock sliding in and out of you, his desperate, dark eyes and your own finger rubbing your clit. 

“It’s so good,” you said.

“I know, honey,” he grunted, with an extra hard thrust that sent a white-hot shock of pleasure through you.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come.” 

Your orgasm blazed through your body, and for the first time, you wished you knew his name because you wanted to cry it out. But you distantly heard yourself babbling wordless sounds against his skin anyway, incoherent with the need to have him fuck you harder and faster. 

His fingers gripped your ass and he pulled you harder onto him. He sped up his thrusts and his whole body went taut, muscles straining, as he helped you through your climax. “Good girl– that’s it. You feel so good coming for me. So good.” 

His praise had you desperately scrabbling your arms around his neck, searching for leverage so you could angle your hips up and give him better access to you.

And then he came, too - snapping his hips against you, brutally and gloriously hard, as his cock pulsed inside you. He sucked the soft flesh where your neck met your shoulder, grunting deep growls against your skin as he released his load in you with desperate, frantic jerks. You held him tightly as he came down, softly dragging the backs of your nails through his hair

Gradually you both stilled, and for some blissful, indeterminate length of time, he kissed your neck, and you fluttered around him where he was connected to you.

You wanted to return some affection to him - tried to squeeze your legs around his hips but your legs were too weak and shaky. Eventually, you dragged your head up and kissed him and the taste of him sent a new, intense pulse of arousal through your core. You almost felt that you might come again just from his tongue in your mouth. 

When you came up for air he mumbled against your mouth, “Going to let you down now, okay?”

He pulled out of you with a strained sigh and eased you down, supporting you until your feet were back on the ground. Then he stepped back and helped you to pull up your jeans.

As you leaned against the tree, panting and exhausted, he tucked his spent cock back into his pants and then collapsed to sit on the ground.

“C’mere, honey.” He reached up for your hand and gently pulled you down into his lap. 

You lay against his body, happily boneless and useless, and he slipped his hand inside your shirt and held your breast in his big, warm palm. You were sure he could feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

Your face was tucked against his neck. You could feel his pulse fluttering fast against your lips. 

Sounds began to enter your consciousness; some bird singing a high, repetitive song, the distant hammering of a woodpecker. The soft shiver of leaves in the wind. 

There’d been some rain yesterday and the earth had that damp, loamy smell that promised new growth.

He was rubbing slow, soothing circles on your breast with his thumb. Kissing your hairline. You had never felt so content. Never so deeply in love. Maybe you were in love with the moment, maybe in love with the man. You didn’t know. You didn’t care. 

He took his hand out of your shirt and touched your chin, tilting your face up to his.

“Do you want to know my name?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Javier.”

You told him your name. He said it back to you and it was the sweetest sound you ever heard. 

“Say it again.”

He touched his lips to the shell of your ear and whispered it over and over as you lay there, serene, and covered in joy.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [mourningbirds1](http://mourningbirds1.tumblr.com) on tumblr  
> 


End file.
